Villain Ch 1885. Six Dead Brides
Allen didn't answer.
Because the door answered for him.
-SLAM!
It shut.
Not with wood.
With finality.
Chains erupted across it like vines. The walls pulsed once—flesh-colored, veiny, like they were remembering how to breathe.
And then—
The lights changed.
Faint at first. Then clearer.
Lines carved themselves into the walls. Glowing red. Then black. Then something darker.
And the air changed.
Like perfume and embalming fluid.
Like regret and formaldehyde.
They turned slowly.
There—
Mounted on the walls.
Six women.
Dressed in gowns.
Velvet. Lace. Gold trim. Silk gloves.
But dead.
Hanging like wedding dolls.
Eyes open.
Mouths stitched.
Skin pale. Some blue. One too gray. One too fresh.
Larissa actually stepped back. "Holy shit."
Bella's expression didn't change, but her knuckles whitened.
Shea just stared. Not blinking. "He decorated the room. With them."
Allen stepped forward. Slowly. Controlled.
